


Steampunk Showcase

by Sinistretoile



Category: American Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Alchemy, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Hunters, Bathing/Washing, Blacksmithing, Breaking and Entering, Carriage Sex, Clocks, Cowgirl Position, Daggers, Emotional Infidelity, Emotional Sex, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Fluff, Fingerfucking, First Time, Floor Sex, Fucking, Hunters & Hunting, Infidelity, Massage, Multiple Sex Positions, Near Death, Office Sex, Outdoor Sex, Police, Porn, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Pregnancy, Rescue, Rough Sex, Science Experiments, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Sexual Content, Spanking, Steampunk, Teasing, Theft, Trains, Vaginal Fingering, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 18:17:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7724806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinistretoile/pseuds/Sinistretoile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To celebrate reaching 100 fics written, I decided to give you readers a taste of one of my favorite things, Steampunk. And some of our favorite men. I hope you enjoy these tales of love, romance, and sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Constable

Mina stood on the platform, awaiting the train. It was unseasonably cool and cloudy. Despite her layers of clothing, the chill still found its way through. She shuddered. It would be pointless to open her parasol and block out the warming sun. Though it might help to ward against the wind that blew against her bare shoulders and throat.  
The black and white striped parasol opened with a flourish. She faced the small ruffled fancy umbrella into the wind. A sigh escaped her at the minute relief. She noticed the groups of men clustered around the platform talking amongst themselves. Bits of conversation carried over the platform as they all awaited the train, which seemed to be running late.  
A gush of wind grabbed the parasol from Mina’s loose grip and danced it away. She cried out in surprise, garnering stern unpleasant looks for nearby gentleman. Its progress stopped at the edge of the platform. With a sigh, she hurried lest the wind take it again. Which was precisely what happened when she reached it.  
“Oh bloody hell.” The pretty parasol fluttered to the tracks. A quick glance showed no one paying her any attention, or offering help in the very least. A frustrated sigh later found her on her knees, reaching for the parasol.  
“Miss, I’m going to have to ask you to move away from the tracks. For your own safety, miss.”  
She looked over her shoulder at him. The gray sun glinted off his polished dome hat. The silver buttons of his uniform jacket glinted merrily down his chest even though they strained from the prodigious muscles underneath. She met his shadowed yet lovely blue green eyes with a confident smile. “Just one second, I’ve almost got it.” Her fingers brushed the handle, but the wind kicked up and skittered it away. She made a desperate grab for it, losing her balance on the edge of the platform. Her cry of surprise didn’t make it past her lips. She hit the tracks with a huff, knocking the air out of her lungs.  
“Miss!” The constable jumped down from the platform without a second thought. She stared up at his handsome face. His shimmering eyes showed concern. “Are you alright?”  
Mina coughed as she drew in air. The snug corset prevented her from fully catching her breath. “Only my pride, good constable.”  
The train whistle blew, signaling its impending arrival. “Excellent. We should vacate the track immediately.”  
“Of course, sir.”  
He helped her up. Grabbing her around the waist, he tried to lift her but her dress yanked. “Blast, your skirt is caught on a tie.”  
“Oh dear.” The train whistle blew louder and closer. The patrons on the platform began to pay attention to the situation now.  
The constable grabbed her skirts and began ripping them in order to free her from the tie. “Forgive the impropriety.”  
“If you get me free before that train runs us down, I’ll forgive you anything.” He looked at her with an odd expression on his face. He gave one final rip. Chunks of clothe fluttered to the track. He grabbed her about the waist again and set her down with a thump. He leapt onto the platform then pulled her back just as the train rolled into the platform, blowing its whistle angrily.  
Her wide frightened eyes stared at the train. The constable squeezed her shoulder gently. “Are you alright, Miss?”  
“Mina and no, I don’t believe I am.” She looked up at his strong yet gentle face, grabbing onto his stout bicep.  
“Come with me then, Mina.” He ducked his head at his use of her name. His gaze flicked the exposed length of her leg where he’d torn her dress and underskirts. Swallowing down the desire that length of stocking and garter aroused in him, he helped her to stand. His arm wound round her shoulders and she tucked herself against his side. The wind kicked up her dress and made her wholly indecent for a moment. The constable frowned then scooped her up into a bridal carry.  
Mina didn’t fight. She was beyond humiliated and terrified. It was a short walk to the constabulary. She rested her head on his shoulder. He couldn’t help casting glances at her. She’d looked so frightened. He wanted to hold her close and make that fear go away. The small room he took her to had a table and a chair, an interview room, no doubt.  
He set her on her feet. “Wait right here.” Then he was gone before she could protest or even ask his name. Mina tried her best to cover the gaping hole in her dress but it was just impossible. The entire thing would need retailoring and mending.  
The door opened and her rescuer appeared with a tray of afternoon tea. “I figured a spot of tea might cheer you up.”  
She smiled at the gesture. “That was thoughtful of you, but I think I’d like to go home now if you could call a carriage for me?”  
“I’m afraid I can’t let you go just yet.”  
She startled. “What? Why?”  
“Paperwork, I’m afraid, Miss…” He trailed off, hoping she’d fill the gap of her name.  
“Mina Barrows.”  
“Miss Barrows.” He smiled. “I’m afraid I have to fill out an incident report. Then I will personally see you home safely.” His gaze dropped to her exposed thigh. He swallowed and looked away quickly, not before she noticed however.  
Mina clutched her shrug at her throat, drawing his attention to her cleavage. “Am I in any trouble, constable?”  
“Evans, Constable Christopher Evans, miss.” He made as if to tip his hat then realized it was gone. “But you may call me ‘Chris’, if you wish…Mina.”  
They shared the afternoon tea while Chris took down her story for his report. “It’s all so embarrassing, really. I should have let the blasted thing go.”  
Chris grinned, shaking his head. “Yes, you should have but then, I never would have gotten the courage to say anything to you.”  
She looked up, blushing at his statement. “Who, me? I’m nothing special. Not a lady or society girl or anything like that.”  
He shrugged. “I don’t care about any of that. I see you every week, sometimes twice a week, waiting for your train. And you’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes on.”  
Mina ducked her head to hide her blushing. Chris took her hand then tipped her chin up. “Might I call on you in the next few days?”  
“I-I’d like that very much.” He leaned in and kissed her gently. She parted her lips in invitation. His tongue stole inside, tangling with hers. He groaned and pulled her bodily out of the chair and into his lap. She broke to gasp for air. “Chris, we must stop. What if someone finds us?”  
He peppered kisses along her throat and down her cleavage. “Everyone is out on patrol. I could lock the door if you’d like.” His hands slipped up under her skirts to press into the supple flesh of her ass. She felt the bulge of his excitement against the apex of her thighs. She whimpered even as she reached for the waistband of his trousers.  
Chris teased the tuft of hair on her mound, petting it like the pussy it was. “Mina?”  
“Yes, Chris?”  
“Do you want me to stop?”  
“Heavens no.”  
“Good.” He grunted as he pushed two fingers inside her. She gasped but rode his thrusting fingers as they began to move. Their open mouths pressed together. He moaned as she reached into his trousers and pulled his cock free of its confines. He had a moment where he thought of her reputation but he didn’t plan on telling anyone of their tryst or his plans to wed her.  
There was no hesitation in Mina as she hooked her boots on the bottom of the chair and lifted up. Chris held his cock straight for her to lower herself down. Her forehead pinched at the flash of pain. She hadn’t pictured her first time to be in an interview room with constable who had a crush on her after they narrowly escaped death. Yet, here she was.  
Chris crossed his arms over her back and grabbed her shoulders. She used the back of the chair for leverage as she rode him. He kissed away her gasping mewls. “Yes, Mina. Yes, my girl.” It wouldn’t take him long the way she rode him. He had a moment to think. “Mina?”  
“Yes, Chris?”  
“Is this…am I…the first?”  
She blushed deeply. “Yes…is that a problem?”  
“No, no, my girl.” He began to kiss her. This knowledge made their tete-a-tete more. He reached between them to rub her clit, knowing the bundle of nerves would undo a woman in no time. Her body jerked and her spine bowed.  
“God, Chris!”  
He grinned against her throat as he came undone at the tip of his fingers. He thrust up, using his grip on her shoulder to pull her down onto him more. His own release hit.

Mina sat in the small parlor of her father’s house. She looked out the window. Today was the day that Chris was supposed to call on her. She bit her lip nervously. What if he changed his mind?  
“Miss Mina?”  
“Yes?”  
“A package arrived for you.”  
The maid laid the package on the table. Mina read the card. ‘From Constable Evans’. She tried to stamp down her excitement as she tore into the box and the tissue paper there in. A lovely blue and white parasol sat nestled in the box. A knock sounded on the door.  
“Miss Mina, Constable Evans is here.” She turned from the box to her dashing suitor in a navy suit and waistcoat. His white cravat made him match the parasol but only just slightly so.  
“Mina.” He tipped his hat to her before sweeping it off. They crossed the room and met in a kiss, pressing their bodies close.  
When they broke, she had a playful grin on her pale pink lips. “Fancy a ride on the train, constable?”


	2. The Horologist

The ticking of the myriad of clocks and watches, at first annoying, became a steady melody. At first, Lucy only allowed herself to sway her hand back and forth the tune. The longer she waited for the horologist, the more she began to move.  
Mr. Stan emerged from the back curtain, a frustrated frown on his face. He froze at the fiery haired vixen who twirled around his store front. He watched her for a moment, clearing his throat only just as she noticed him standing there.  
“Pardon me.”  
“No worries, miss. How may I help you this fine afternoon?” Her beauty made him forget the timepiece in the back that was giving him an awful time.  
“I’m in need of a pocket watch.”  
“For yourself or someone else?”  
Lucy bit her bottom lip. The clock maker was quite handsome. So handsome with his dark hair and dark eyes that he made her nervous. The only other man to make her nervous was her husband when he was in one of his moods. “Someone else.”  
“A gift?”  
“Yes, sir.”  
He picked up on her nervousness. “Are you well, miss?” He came around the counter.  
“I’m fine. Please, Mr. Stan, don’t worry yourself. I came to you because I’ve heard you are the best horologist in town. And my husband deserves the best.”  
“Husband.” Of course. A beautiful creature as herself would no doubt be married to a successful lord or something. “I can see that.”  
“Yes.” She demurred but her nerves did not ease. “I am afraid he will not like it. He never likes the presents I buy him.”  
“What an ungrateful lout.” Her giggle told Sebastian that he had spoken the words aloud and not just in his head. He cleared his throat in embarrassment but did not ask for forgiveness. “Only the best for the lady’s husband then. I have some excellent pocket watches in this cabinet.” He gestured to the cabinet she’d looked at first from the other side of the counter.  
“I couldn’t see them well from back here.”  
“Then come this way, milady.” He escorted her around the counter, daring to rest his hand on the small of her back. She didn’t pull away. Quite the contrary, her gait carried her slightly closer to him. “These are some of my best work.”  
Lucy’s eyes lit up at the slowly moving pictures. These were wonderful. Too good for her brute of a husband, in fact. “Oh, Mr. Stan, these are simply lovely.”  
“Do you see anything you like?” Her eyes met his in the reflection of the glass case.  
“I do.” Sebastian swallowed. Lucy recovered first. “The second one, the stormy sea.”  
“Ah ‘The Tempest’.” He retrieved a ring of keys from the immense bronze register. “She took me over a year to perfect.”  
“It’s wonderful, Mr. Stan.”  
“Please, call me Sebastian.”  
Lucy shook his hand. “Lucy Stafford.” He brought her hand to his lips, pressing them gently to her knuckles. Her lips parted at the inexplicable intimacy of the gesture.  
“Charmed.” The air seemed to crackle between them. He turned her hand over and laid the pocket watch in her palm. She noticed the weight of it. Oh, William wouldn’t like that.  
“I’m afraid it’s a bit heavy. William won’t like that.”  
Sebastian blinked. “You’re Barrister Stafford’s wife?”  
“Afraid so.” She offered him back the watch.  
“He’s quite intimidating.”  
“You have no idea.” Sebastian took the watch back as she slowly turned away. He had an idea.  
“Lucy?” She hummed in acknowledge, looking at the other watches in the case. Her gaze fell to one that simulated the cycle of the day. Sebastian noticed her interest. “Would you care to commission a piece for Barrister Stafford? I would need your input. Regularly.”  
Lucy thought it over. “Regularly?” She could see the handsome horologist and with reason so as not to arise suspicion.  
“Yes.” Truthfully, he found her painfully beautiful and wanted to see more of her. Catching her dancing to the ticking of his clocks had been strangely endearing. Her sadness at what could be construed as an unhappy marriage to a publicly cruel man had been even more endearing. “I will sketch a rough design of the piece I had in mind. Would you being willing to return tomorrow?”  
Her eyes lit up. “Tomorrow, yes.”  
He returned her smile. “Tomorrow then, sweet lady.”

On her word, she arrived at the shop the next day. The design was perfect. She sat enraptured as he explained how everything would work. She agreed to the commission and to return in a week.  
Sebastian worked tirelessly on the piece he’d been fighting with when Lucy had walked into his shop. Now he knew why. It was meant for her. He grudgingly began work on the Barrister’s watch as well. He had not completed much by her return the following week.  
Lucy relished the weekly visits to Sebastian’s. It was the only time she smiled. She felt warm and comfortable, cherished, among the turning and clicking gears. The musical ticking filled her thoughts as well as his kind eyes. He had a great talent. She loved to watch his hands work intricately on the tiny clockwork pieces.  
Sebastian put off the inevitable as long as possible. But months had passed and both pocket watches were complete and working splendidly. He smiled sadly at her when she arrived in the shop that day.  
“Sebastian, you look as if your heart is broken.”  
He shook his head. “It’s nothing, Lucy.” She didn’t look convinced, because she wasn’t. “I have a surprise for you. Come on back.” She swept off her hat, shaking loose her pinned up hair. He resisted the urge to shove his hands in it and pull her mouth to his.  
“What are you working on today?”  
“Nothing, I’m afraid. My hands need the rest.” She made a soft ‘oh’. “Please have a seat. I…I’ve completed your husband’s watch.” He handed her the open box containing the piece he’d built specifically for her.  
“Sebastian, I don’t know what to say. It’s simply marvelous.” She watched the hands move around the dial, as well as the scales of justice to the second hand. She squinted her eyes at the painting of lady justice. “Is that me?”  
“Yes.” He shuffled his feet. “Do you think he’ll like it?”  
“I don’t even care anymore. I love it.” Her smile made his work worth it. “If he doesn’t like it, I’ll keep it for myself.”  
Sebastian grinned. “Whatever will you do with two watches?”  
“But I don’t have-“  
“I did tell you I had a surprise for you.” Lucy set down the box with her husband’s watch in it as Sebastian handed her a second box. Tears welled in her eyes. “Sebastian, it’s beautiful.”  
“Not as beautiful as you, Lucy.” He watched her admire the set of twinkling lights that were stars around a shifting moon. “My heart is broken because you won’t be back after today.”  
Lucy looked up at him. “No, that cannot happen, Sebastian. You mean too much to me.”  
“Lucy, you are a married woman and I am an unwed man. Think of the scandal.”  
“Hang the scandal.” She stood and flung herself into his arms. Theirs mouths crashed together and he finally knew what love poems were about. Passion and desire raced through them. The cacophony of metal on metal crashing against itself and to the floor didn’t deter him as he pushed her up against the workbench.  
“I should take you upstairs.”  
Lucy shook her head. “No, right here. Here is where we fell in love.”  
He smiled, cupping the side of her face. “Yes, it’s true.” He fought her skirts until he felt her skin underneath his roughened fingertips. Her legs opened to him. He moaned against her mouth as she reached for his waistband and into his trousers.  
Lucy had never felt such wanton pleasure with her husband, such desire. She lifted up as he pulled her frilly pantaloons down. He jerked her to the edge of bench, shrugging out of his suspenders. Her fingers made quick work of button and zipper. Her hand never left his cock, guiding him to where they both wanted him to be.  
He wasn’t as big as her husband but that meant no pain as he pushed inside her. Her pussy clenched around him, drawing forth a groan. Her heavy breath tickled his ear as she clung to his shoulders. The wooden legs of the bench scraped across the floor with each hard thrust. His pubic bone rubbed against her clit, sending jolts of pleasure through her on the back of the thrusts.  
He wrapped an arm around her waist to hold her closer. His grunts of effort stabbed through her. He grabbed her hair with other hand and pressed his face into it, breathing her in. His open mouth dropped to her ear.  
“I love you, Lucy.”  
“I love you, Sebastian.”  
Her world went white, something she’d never felt with the barrister, and pleasure swamped her, stealing her breath so that she could only whimper as she pressed her fingers into his shoulders. She grabbed onto his shirt, riding out her orgasm.  
Sebastian felt her orgasm and lost what little control he had, fucking her harder against the bench. She cried out his name over and over again until he found his release. He cupped her face, staring into her eyes. He began to kiss her again and again, telling her he loved her.  
The bell above the shop door tinkled. Sebastian helped Lucy down from the bench. She hurried on with her knickers and proceeded to repin her hair.  
“Hello? Anyone here?”  
Lucy froze in abject terror. Sebastian took her shoulders. “What is it, my love?”  
“My husband.”  
His eyes widened. “Oh.” She bit her lip, tears springing to her eyes. “Don’t worry, Lucy. I will handle this. Just follow my lead.” She nodded. Sebastian handed her both the watch boxes and led her through the curtain.  
Barrister Stafford stood on the other side of the counter. His eyes widened in shock. “Lucy?”  
“Yes, darling?”  
“So it’s true then.”  
“What’s true?”  
“You’ve been having an affair with this-this peasant.”  
Sebastian frowned. “I believe the word you’re looking for is craftsman. And no, it is not true.” Lucy looked up at Sebastian, confused. Did they not just make love? Did he not just tell her repeatedly that he loved her?  
“Then why has my wife been coming here week after week, spending hours upon hours here?”  
“Because she commissioned a pocket watch for you, sir. I made the mistake of forgetting to wind it and it needed a spring tightened. Your wife merely asked to see how it worked.”  
Stafford had the decency to look embarrassed at his accusation. “My apologies.”  
“It was just a matter of payment.”  
Sebastian turned to Lucy. “Oh yes!” She produced the checkbook from her pocket and wrote him a check for the price they had agreed on.  
“But wife, you have two watches there.”  
“Oh yes, William, you’ve gotten me all flustered.”  
“My apologies, again, Lucy.” William watched Sebastian as he looked at his wife. He wasn’t convinced that the young man didn’t have some type of affection for his wife.  
“Nonsense, Lucy. Your watch is a gift. For being such a wonderful friend.” He kissed her knuckles again, lingering longer than he should have but pulling away before it became inappropriate.  
“Thank you, Sebastian.”  
“Good day, Mr. Stan. Come along, Lucy.” The barrister took her arm and led her from the shop. She cast a backward glance at him as the stepped out the door of the shop.

Sebastian set the paper down on the counter, chewing the bite of apple he’d just taken. The bell above the door tinkled. “Afternoon, what can I do for you today?” He looked up and nearly choked.  
Lucy set her pair of suitcases down on either side of her. “I’m looking for the man I love.”  
He walked around the counter, swallowing the half-chewed bite roughly. “Lucy, what are you doing here?”  
“I left him. I couldn’t stay there and raise our baby with him.”  
“Our…baby?”  
She nodded, biting her lip nervously. “I am with child, Sebastian. Your child. I am yours if you will have me.” Sebastian looked at her in pleasant shock. “Sebastian, say something.”  
He cleared his throat. “Yes! Of course, yes!” He took her face in his hands and kissed her. Then he bent and kissed her belly, feeling a slight curve there. He kissed it again then straightened up. “Yes, I’ll have you. I’d be an idiot not to.” They each grabbed a suitcase and carried them to the back, the curtain falling into place behind them.


	3. The Engineer

Elsa pushed her shoulder against the heavy door. Something popped within the room beyond and made her shout in surprise. The scent of ozone wafted up her slightly upturned nose. The thick oak door kicked back heavily as she stepped through.  
“Professor Isaac?”  
The hissing and popping continued so she followed it. All around her lights blinked and wheels turned rapidly. Of which she had no clue to their purpose. She was just an errand girl for the clerks’ office. This was way above her head. The rooms looked like a tumble of junk to her.  
“Professor Isaac?”  
She turned the corner and ran into him. His dark brown eye was magnified. She could see every beautiful black lash. Her moist pink lips formed an ‘oh’ of surprise.  
“Yes, girl, can I help you?” She stammered over her words. “Come now, speak up. I’m in the middle of something crucial.”  
“Professor Isaac?”  
His lush pink lips curled into a placating smile. “Yes, I am Professor Isaac. And who are you?”  
“Elsa Christy, I’m from the clerks’ office.”  
Oscar flipped up the magnifying glass on the device strapped to his head. Elsa couldn’t help but to notice the soft-looking dark curls trapped underneath. “Yes?”  
She remembered the thick envelope and handed it to him. “I was sent to deliver this. And to make sure you opened it before I left.”  
Oscar looked from the envelope to her then took it carefully. “Do you know what’s in here?” She shook her head. He grinned at her conspiratorially. “Would you like to?” She smiled and nodded. “Come this way.” She hurried after him, winding through a veritable maze of contraptions.  
Oscar stopped at table that was covered in books and papers. He pushed a chair out and gestured for her to sit down. She perched on the end. He licked his lips at her cleavage on display and the slight pout of her lips. She sat with her knees together and her hands resting on those knees.  
“Elsa, would you like a drink?”  
“I’m afraid I don’t drink, professor.”  
“Tea, perhaps? I can pop the kettle on in my office.”  
“If you’d like.”  
He scratched his full beard as he walked into the office. No doubt the envelope contained his walking papers. A revocation of his grant. A cease and desist all activities and vacate the premises immediately type to do.  
He needed an assistant. That’s what he needed. A young, impressionable thing that would do whatever he needed her to do. His eyes fell to the nubile young thing that sat at his work table. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her and she was trying to be sly as she looked at the papers. He watched her, stroking his neck, as he waited for the water to boil. She didn’t apparently know what any of the calculations meant, but her pretty face pinched as she looked them over. Then she began to sort them into stacks.  
Oscar’s flash of irrational rage at the moving of his papers vanished. He would let her handle the papers until she left then he would see what she had done. He brought the tray out and set it in front of her on the space she had cleared.  
“Forgive me, Professor Isaac. My mother used to call me a ‘neat nick’. I shouldn’t have touched your things. I’m sorry.”  
“You’re fine, Elsa. It can’t be any worse than mess they were before.” He leaned over her, pouring them both a cup of tea. She breathed in the heavy scent of him, sweat, grease, ozone and earthy cologne. She wanted to press her face into his ribcage and breathe deep of him.  
Elsa swallowed the flare of nerves as she looked away from the handsome, dark professor, bringing the tea cup to her lips. They sat in a charged silence. Oscar didn’t hide his appraisal of her.  
“Elsa, what do you do at the clerks’ office?”  
“I sort and file, sir.”  
He clicked his tongue. “And if I might ask, what sort of wage do you make?”  
“I don’t think-“  
Oscar waved her ‘don’t’ away. “Elsa, please answer the question.”  
“I make $4 a week, sir.”  
He clucked his tongue. “Shame.”  
She shrugged. “It’s better than factories, professor. Or worse.” She shuddered.  
Oscar scooted closer. “Listen, Elsa. I’m leaving the University. No doubt, that envelope makes it official.” He nodded to the manila envelope next to the tray. “I am in need of an assistant. And I can pay you more than $4 a week.”  
“Sir?”  
“I’m not abusive, either. Mostly neglectful, I’m afraid. I get so wrapped up in my projects.” He gestured to the shambles the pair of tables was in. “You can see the madness my work leaves behind.” He crouched next to her and took her hand. “I need someone like you, Elsa.”  
“I don’t know, professor.”  
Oscar sighed and stood up. He tore open the manila envelope. His eyes skimmed back and forth. It was everything he thought, only worse. They were demanding he leave his work in progress. That would definitely not be happening.  
“I have until the end of the week. Which means that you have until the end of the week to give me an answer, Elsa. I hope you will agree.”  
“Elsa!”  
Her tea cup clattered to the tray. “That’ll be my boss, sir. I have to go.” She ran for the door, looking back at the professor who was watching her leave.

Shouting and slamming came from the open wooden doors. Students carried boxes out in an assembly line fashion. Elsa followed their progress to an open door. And outside of it, there was a horse drawn wagon. She hurried back to Professor Isaac’s door.  
“Professor Isaac?” She pulled up short at the disarray and destruction in the lab. Most of the bigger pieces of machinery and devices were gone. As were a fair chunk of the boxes of books and files. The dean and Professor Isaac shouted back and forth, very close to one another. She watched the men shout and gestulate for a handful of minutes. “Would you both kindly shut up!”  
They both turned to look at her. She shifted under the weight of their furious gazes. “Elsa, what are you doing here?”  
“Dean Winslow, I came to see Professor Isaac on his last day here.” The dean looked from the young filing assistant to the mature professor and immediately got the wrong impression.  
“You should be ashamed of yourself, Professor Isaac. Taking advantage of a young, curious girl. Good riddance to you, sir. And you, Elsa, are dismissed.” She gaped at the man. “I cannot have your impropriety stain the reputation of the University.”  
The dean jerked his waistcoat straight and strode out with his nose held high. Elsa recovered as he neared the door and picked up the closest object, a half built small engine of some sort and threw it at the dean. The resulting explosion of wood and metal at its impact on the door next to the dean made him shout and duck.  
Elsa picked up another metal contraption to throw at the dean, but Oscar wrapped his arms around her over hers. “Stop, Elsa. He’s not worth it.”  
Her hot tears streaked her face. “I only came to wish you luck.”  
Oscar carefully took the pieced together chunk of metal then gathered her into his arms, shushing her soft sobs. “It’ll be alright, Elsa. My offer still stands.”  
“I have no choice but to accept to at this moment.”  
He leaned back and smiled. “Wonderful. Would you like to start immediately and help me pack up the rest of my things?”  
She reached up and tucked a fallen strand of hair behind her ear. “Might as well.” He released her and they set to work.  
“We’ve only a few more hours before I have to be off the premises. I’m going to have to come back to retrieve the rest of my work when the University is closed.”  
“Isn’t that trespassing?”  
“I’m not leaving my work here for someone else to put their grubby hands over and take credit for my hard fought discoveries.” Elsa sighed. What had she gotten herself into?  
Oscar and Elsa worked non-stop until the dean returned with a pair of constables. Between the professor, his new assistant and the student volunteers, they had cleared out a nearly all of the professor’s work.

The carriage pulled up to a large, plain-looking building. To Elsa, it appeared empty from the outside. The wooden doors opened and the carriage rolled inside. The doors shut behind it.  
“Elsa?”  
“Yes, professor?”  
Oscar took her hands in one of his warm, calloused hands. “I want to thank you for all your help today.”  
“You’re welcome, Professor Isaac.”  
“Please, call me Oscar.” Elsa demurred at the familiarity. “I need to ask you a favor.” Oscar opened the carriage door and helped her down.  
“What’s that, professor?”  
His intense gaze bored into her. “I need you to come with me tonight. I have my driver but I need a look out, so to speak.”  
“I don’t know.”  
“I will see that no harm comes to you, Elsa.”  
“What if we get arrested?”  
“I will take full blame.” Elsa looked down at the ground, chewing her lip. She should tell him no. But he curled a finger under her chin and tipped her head back. “Please, Elsa. I need you.” Those words felt wholly different and rested heavy in her belly.  
“Alright, professor.” His thumb caressed the rounded point of her chin. Her submission fired a desire to kiss her. He leaned down to do so but a loud crash further in the building brought him up short. He sighed and released her, stalking off.  
Elsa looked around the building. It was a large archaic structure that reminded her of his lab at the University expanded to gargantuan size. This was a task that might be beyond her ability. He cursed from somewhere ahead of her.  
“Elsa! Elsa, I need your help.” She gathered her skirts in her hands and ran toward the sound of his voice. She found him and another young man struggling to lift a mechanical device that looked like a steam engine had turned itself inside out. Her belly dropped between her legs at his bulging forearms. The bastard had taken off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. She felt the urge to kiss them and desired them on either side of her head. “Elsa?”  
“Oh, sorry, professor.”  
He smirked at her blush. “Would you kindly hold the table steady from the other side? It wants to slide when we get the engine at its apex.”  
“Of course, sir.” She walked around the table and braced her hands on the table, resting her full weight on it. Oscar and the young man grunted in effort as they strained to lift the engine. The table moved despite her efforts but they managed to get the engine on top of it.  
“Thank you, Elsa.”  
“You’re welcome, sir.”  
Oscar grabbed his jacket from the pile of mechanical parts and hung it on his arm. He offered her his other. “Care to join me for a bit of supper before we trespass? I suspect we’ll need our energy.”  
Elsa giggled despite herself. She hooked her arm in his. “Lead the way, professor.” He chatted amiably with her as they strolled through the warehouse cum engineering laboratory. Her eyes roamed their surroundings, her curiosity soaking it all.  
Oscar paused at a heavy oaken door. She turned to him. “Your curiosity makes you breathtakingly beautiful, Elsa.” She blushed and started to dip her head. Oscar seized the moment and captured her lips, drawing her deeper with his tongue. His arm slipped around her narrow waist and pulled her body against his.  
Elsa stiffened at first, but he tasted of some exotic spice and whiskey. And his warmth made her pliable, willing…eager even. He broke from her slowly. His hooded eyes took in her lovely face. Her dark eyes were closed and yet he could see practically every lash against her pale cheek.  
“Forgive me, Elsa.”  
Her eyes fluttered open. “Never, Oscar.”  
He smiled and let her go slowly, holding it open for her. His gaze dropped to the sway of her hips underneath the layers of her skirts. He looked away before he had to adjust himself to prevent embarrassment.

The University was dark. The wagon rolled up to wear it had been parked before. Oscar forced the lock on the door and held it open for her. Elsa ducked inside. The pair hurried along the corridor, sticking to the shadows.  
He leaned in close to her once they were inside the lab. “We haven’t much time. Stand here and watch for the night watchman while I handle the lifting.”  
“Alright. Be careful.” Seized by spontaneity, she leaned up and kissed him closed lipped and quickly. Things moved rapidly and smoothly as he carted out the most important crates of books and papers and prototype devices.  
The first rounding of the night watchmen found them pressed together behind the door. Oscar found himself distracted by her scent and her supple warmth. They stayed in the darkest part of the shadows as the watchman walked around the first few stacks, shuddered then quickly left the room, pulling the door closed behind him.  
Oscar pressed her against the wall, his hungry gaze dropping to her alabaster cleavage. She looked at him with surprised yet eager eyes and parted lips. He cupped her face and kissed her sweetly. “Patience, little one, I will ravage you when the work is done.”  
She swallowed and nodded. “Yes, professor.” She kept watch again as he loaded more into the wagon. He looked around the cavernous lab. He’d just taken a load to the wagon.  
“I think that is everything that cannot be replaced.”  
The door pushed open wider. “I thought I closed this.” Oscar pulled her out of the slice of light from the hall. The watchman heard their feet scrape. “You there! Come out!” Oscar held a finger up to his lips, looking back at her. “Come out or I’ll thump ya!” He motioned her back further in the stack. “I see you there!”  
The watchman grabbed at Elsa through the empty stack. She screamed and Oscar struck the man’s arm with a metal rod. “Run!” Elsa darted around Oscar and for the open door. He pulled the watchman partially through the stack and punched him in the jaw before following her. “Hurry, to the wagon.”  
“No, this way. He’ll follow us and we won’t get far.” Elsa grabbed his hand and they ran through the darkened corridors, the night watchman not far behind. She led him to an access hall that he had no idea had been there.  
The watchman ran past, cursing them both. Elsa peeked out to make sure the coast was clear and there he was. He grabbed her by her hair and arm. She screamed and fought. Oscar punched the watchman once, twice, three times when he finally let go. She attempted to be as small as possible as the professor pummeled the watchman with surprising skill and strength.  
When he’d succeeded in rendering the man unconscious, he grabbed her arm and practically dragged her as they ran back to the door. He told the driver to go and they took off running across the campus. When they were well away on the other side, Oscar hailed a carriage.  
“Where to, sir?” He rattled off the address and pulled her inside.  
“Are you alright?”  
“Just shaken. I’ll be fine, professor.”  
Oscar wouldn’t take her word. “Let me have a look at you.” He pulled down the sleeve of her dress to check her arm where she’d been grabbed not once but twice. Bruises were already blossoming on her tender flesh where the brute had used far more force than necessary. He touched her scalp gingerly. She winced. “I’m truly sorry, Elsa.”  
A chunk of her hair dangled from her top knot. Oscar could see the pinpricks of blood where it had been violently pulled from her scalp. “It will heal.” His gaze dropped to her panting chest. With a growl, he pulled her into his lap and buried his face in the soft flesh of her cleavage. “Oscar?”  
He looked up at her breathy voice. He didn’t ask permission as he fumbled with her skirts with one hand and his trousers with the other. The carriage bumped along the rutted streets. His mouth on hers stole away her cry as he thrust a pair of fingers inside her.  
“Oh my sweet girl, not a virgin.”  
She grinned against his mouth. “Is that a problem?”  
“Most definitely not.” He pulled his cock from his trousers, stroking it until it pulsed in his hand, fully hard and ready. She rose up onto her knees as he held himself straight. With a grunt, he pulled her down onto his cock. She gasped and dug her fingers into his shoulder. The carriage bumped and she cried out, his full length plunging inside her. “Are you alright?” He held the back of her neck to look into her eyes.  
“Yes, just go.” Her rocking hips urged him to move. Move he did. His arm locked around her waist, holding her close. Short, sharp thrusts met her rocking hips. He held her by the back of the neck, looking intently into her eyes and she grew closer and closer. The helpless look in her eyes growing more and more as the pleasure coiled tighter in her belly.  
Elsa’s hand slapped against the back of the carriage. Oscar leaned forward to nibble her cherry lips, grunting through his nose. She might not have been a virgin but she was still snug around him. Her fingertips dug into the wood of the carriage as she clenched around him, gasping.  
“Come off with me, Elsa.” His beard tickled the tops of her breasts as his lips found her pulse. Her face pinched as he drove her higher and higher with each sharp thrust, the bumping of the carriage pushing him further inside her than maybe he intended. Her orgasm took him by surprise as she whined and clutched his hair.  
He took her release as permission to find his own. The carriage rolled to a stop. The driver knocked on the outside. “We’re here.”  
Elsa opened the door as Oscar fixed himself before they climbed out of the carriage. The professor handed him the fare, but the driver shook his head. “It’s on me, sir.” The man winked. “I’d keep her, sir. They don’t make women like that around here.”  
Oscar stared after the carriage before turning to Elsa. “It’s late. Allow me to escort you home.”  
Elsa stepped into him. “Are you so sure you want me to go home tonight, Oscar?” Oscar again. He wrapped his arm around her waist.  
“I’d rather like it if you spent the night. For your safety, of course.”  
“Of course.” He kissed her laughing mouth as he walked her back to the door.


	4. The Blacksmith

The steady ping of the metal hammer on the red hot metal echoed through the alleyway. The air shimmered with the heat of the forge. Tom’s shoulders flexed with every swing of the hammer. His arm muscles bulged, tremors running through them with each impact.  
Zita eyed the blacksmith from the doorway of the cat house. He wasn’t married. But the man never stopped by to avail himself of Lady Montrose’s ladies of the evening. When Zita wasn’t working, she was standing in this doorway, watching this brute of a man beat away at pieces of metal, creating works of art that displayed in the store front.  
“Is that all you do?”  
Zita flinched. He’d never spoken before. “I’m sorry?”  
He pulled the googles from his eyes so they rested on his forehead. He had a faint dusting of soot on his flushed face. She admired his full lips. “I said, is that all you do?”  
“Is what all I do?”  
“Stand there and watch me.”  
Zita shrugged. Her long wavy black air cascaded down her back with the motion. He sucked in his cheek, watching the sway of her hips as she came down the trio of steps and crossed the alley. He upended his hammer on the anvil and leaned on the handle.  
“I do other things.”  
Tom smirked. “That right?”  
Zita smiled. “That’s right.” She glided on her fingers along the warm surface of the anvil. “I sing. I cook.”  
“You fuck.”  
Zita looked up slowly. “Yes, I fuck. But not for a living.”  
“But you work at a cat house.”  
“Not every woman who works at cat house fucks there.”  
His forehead furrowed. “What do you do there then?”  
“I’m good with numbers and I’m personable. I handle the finances for Lady Montrose so she can entertain.”  
“Entertain. That’s a good one.” He sucked on his lips, his gaze dropping to her cleavage. Her olive skin made him want to taste it.  
“Entertain, yes. The madam doesn’t fuck unless she wants to.”  
“And you?”  
Zita slipped between him in the anvil. He was thankful for the heavy leather apron that hid his jutting cock. She smelled like jasmine and vanilla. He wanted to taste her. “I fuck if I want to. But not at work.”  
Her dark eyes looked up at him from under her eyebrows. He rested his other arm on the anvil, capturing her in the space he made there. “Do you want to?”  
“You?” He simply looked at her. “Yes.”  
“Turn around.” She did, excitement building in her belly. “See that piece of metal there?”  
“Yes.”  
“It will be one of five. I want you to come by every day and talk to me until they’re done. If by then, you still want to fuck. We’ll fuck.”  
“Alright.” He pressed her between his body and the anvil. She could feel his excitement through the heavy leather apron. Why didn’t he just take her? She said as much. “But why wait?”  
He closed his eyes as he pressed the side of his face into her neck, breathing in her scent. It was a striking contrast to the ash and fire, the oil and sweat. She closed her eyes, enjoying the close, intimate contact with him. “Women are trouble. I want to know if you’re worth it.”

Over the next month, Zita went to his forge every day. She would watch him work. And while he worked, they would talk. About their families and their lives up to this point. They talked about politics as far as they followed them and religion. She sat for him. Sometimes, they ate a meal together if the time was just right.  
The last day, Zita arrived to find the forge cool. Tom was nowhere to be found. She hurried up the alley to the street, walking around the block to the store front. Through the window, she could see Tom dressed in strikingly different clothes. A suit and waistcoat with his hair slicked back and his normally unkempt beard trimmed neatly.  
Tom spotted her through the window and smiled. His customer turned to see what he was smiling at. She waved meekly from the other side of the glass. The customer waved her in. She looked at Tom, clueless of what to do. He nodded, giving her permission to come in.  
“Who do we have here?”  
“Lord Byron, this is my lady Zita.”  
The lord took her hand and brought it to his lips. “Such a lovely lady she is, Mr. Hardy.” Zita smiled. The lord winked at her then released her hand. “I am very pleased with your work, Mr. Hardy. The daggers are lovely. A true work of art.”  
“Thank you, sir.”  
“Good day, Mr. Hardy, Miss Zita.” The lord tipped his hat to her then exited the shop with a large wooden case tucked under his arm.  
Tom walked around the counter. “Is everything alright?” He grabbed her elbow with one hand and cupped the side of her face with the other.  
Zita leaned into his strong, calloused palm, breathing in the scent of some lotion he’d applied to his hands to keep them from drying out too much because of the heat of the forge. “You weren’t in the back. I came to make sure you were alright.”  
He smiled. “Miss me?”  
“I did.” She grabbed his wrist and rubbed her cheek in his palm. His thumb caressed her bottom lip.  
“They won’t miss you across the way.” She shook her head. “Good.” He surprised her by sweeping her up into a bridal carry. His compact body strode with purpose through the back storeroom and out into the back courtyard where the forge was. He set her on her feet in the dirt then quietly took of his jacket. “I have a few questions I’ve been putting off asking. Will you answer them?”  
“Of course, Tom.”  
He unbuttoned the waistcoat and slowly rolled up his sleeves, baring his muscular and tan forearms. “Do you have to be over there every day?”  
“Not every day.” She put her hands behind her back and leaned against the anvil.  
“Would you come work for me? Run the front shop, take care of the books.”  
“I could do that. How much does it pay?” She toed the dirt at her feet. Truth be told, she didn’t care what it paid. Between her pay from the cat house and whatever he paid, she could make it.  
“Are you wearing anything under that skirt?” She bit her bottom lip and shook her head. He grabbed her under her chin and held her head at an angle. “It doesn’t pay anything. I’m not going to pay my wife to run our business.”  
“W-wife?”  
“For as long as you’ve been watching me, I’ve had my eye on you.”  
“I thought you said ‘women are trouble’.”  
“You are. But I want you. And I think you’re worth the trouble. So what’s your answer?”  
His domineering body pressed her back into the anvil. Her pulse tripped at the way he held her. Such contained violence and destruction in his large hand but he held her chin as if she’d break. His eyes belied her vulnerability. Her tongue wet her lips. “Yes.”  
He kissed her, his full lips softer than she imagined. His palm skimmed down her throat to her breasts then down her waist. He pressed his forehead to hers. “Turn around.” She braced her palms against the anvil. He flipped up her skirt and bared her ass. His rough, calloused hands kneaded the smooth, soft flesh of her ass.  
A pair of thick fingers teased over her clit and made her body jerk. He drew them down her opening and pushed them inside. He pumped them once, twice, and then pulled them out to rub her clit again. She lowered her head to the cool metal as her face flamed hot. He drew his fingers back and pushed them inside her.  
Tom repeated it again and again, rubbing her clit then fucking her with his fingers, leaving her gasping and panting. He grew tired of his own game. He kept his fingers on her clit, firmer and faster until she was crying in release. She felt the fabric of his trousers against her thighs then the tease of his cock head against her entrance. He slicked himself in her cum then worked his way inside.  
Slow, grunting push then an even slower draw back out. She flexed her hands on the anvil. He started the slow, grunting push again but she was impatient. She needed him to fuck her. She pushed her body back onto his. It seemed to break his revere.  
They paid no attention to the open gate. Their moans and groans grew louder as their bodies moved together and against one another. His fingers dug into her hips, pulling her back onto him. His hips snapped as he pounded into her. Then they were shouting and cumming one after the other.  
Tom’s chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath. His hands roamed her back, feeling her trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasms. He pulled her up and turned her around. His intense gaze met hers as he held her chin. “I’ll walk you home to get your things.”  
“Yes, Mr. Hardy.” He grinned, grabbing a handful of her ass and pulling her body against him. She laughed and kissed him, feeling his stubble underneath her palms. This one was definitely worth the trouble.


	5. The Hunter

Great dirt clods kicked up under the hooves of the pair of horses that galloped through the woods. Branches cracked and snapped back at their riders. Their heavy breath steamed the air in smoke white puffs. The rider on the left was knocked from his saddle as he emerged from the clearing. He wrestled with the beast, fighting snapping jaws and powerful arms.  
The left rider reared her horse up and swung down. She brought what appeared to be a medieval rocket launcher up and braced in it in the crook of her shoulder. She tried to get a clear shot of the beast but her partner kept getting in the way. “Oh for fucks sake, get out of the fucking way!”  
“I am trying!” The beast growled, snapping for his face. Jensen gritted his teeth and he put all his strength into lifting the beast higher. Its wings blocked his view of his partner. But he heard the hollow sound of the ball exiting the barrel.  
The gargoyle screamed and fought as it wrestled with the net, winding the tensile fibers tighter around it. It’s flailing grew frantic and more violent. Streaks of blood appeared on Jensen’s face and even by the moon light, she could the wetness on his arms. The gargoyle’s talons were shredding his leather coat and gauntlets.  
“Hang on, love!” She mounted the horse and hooked the rope of the net to a hook on the saddle. The horse galloped off to the other side of the clearing, dragging the gargoyle on its back and feet away from Jensen.  
The gargoyle snapped and rolled, struggling with the tensile net but only winding itself tighter. “Good thinking, Mae.” He tried to smile around catching his breath. The blood running down his cheek made him devilishly sexy. “Now, to find his mate.”  
No sooner had the words left his mouth, Mae was hit square in the body and thrown back. She landed on her back, knocking all the wind out of her. The female gargoyle knocked Jensen into a tree with her wings. Her claws dug up clods of earth as she stalked toward Mae.  
Air filled her lungs in a loud gasping rush. The gargoyle stood over her, exhibiting frighteningly human characteristics and intelligence, studying her. Mae unbuckled the compact crossbow from her thigh. A gravelly growling came from the gargoyle. Mae paused. What it trying to talk? From a mouth that no human language should come from?  
“Mae!” Jensen darted toward them. The gargoyle whirled and snarled, giving Mae its back. She seized the opportunity and brought the crossbow up. When the gargoyle turned around, she fired a bolt into its eye. It screamed and clawed the metal bolt in its eye socket. Mae jumped up and launched herself at the beast. Her legs locked around the female’s hips and rode her down to the ground.  
The gargoyle snarled and bucked but Mae hung on. She used the butt of the crossbow to beat the bolt further into the eye. The beast fell still when the bolt hit the brain. Her pinned hair had fallen loose and she used her bloody hand to swipe the platinum blonde tresses back as she sat back on the beast’s belly.  
Jensen pulled up short. He swallowed. He should have never taken up with this woman. She hit all his triggers like a fist to the gut. She stood up and nudged the lifeless gargoyle. “Are you alright?” He reached for her face but brought his hand up short. She wasn’t a damsel in distress and she’d beat the hell out of him a time or two for treating her as such.  
She glanced at his fallen hand but made no comment. “I’m fine. You? The male got your face and arms pretty good.”  
He lightly touched his cheek. “They aren’t deep.” The male growled and snapped from his tensile cocoon. “What do you want to do with him?”  
Mae glanced at the dead female. “They’re mated. Kill him.”  
“Burn the bodies.”  
“You read my mind.” She surprised him by leaning up and kissing his cheek, his bloody cheek. The woman wasn’t afraid to get hurt, to get dirty, to be in the thick of the hunt and the fight. They’d found each other hunting vampires in the north of France. She could hold her own. After the death of his previous partner, he took up with her. She proved to be a good decision and they’d been together ever since.

Water splashed from the bathroom. The fire popped and cracked in the fireplace. Jensen stared at the dancing flames, the tumbler of whiskey dangling from his fingertips. His foot braced on the ottoman. His head dropped back against the leather of the deep chair. He distracted himself from the sounds in the bathroom by examining the construction of the roof.  
“Jensen?”  
“Yes, Mae?”  
“Would you be a doll and bring me another whiskey?”  
He sighed. Her temptation seemed to expand on itself. “No problem.” His bare feet scuffed over the polished wooden floor as he walked to the side bar. He didn’t bother with a fresh glass. She wasn’t dainty as all that. Mae held up her glass as he walked into the room.  
Her back was to him, thank God. He took the glass and filled it. “Thanks, love.”  
“It’s been a long day. We should get some rest.”  
“I’ll be out in the minute.” He hummed in response. He glimpsed her breasts when she settled back into the tub. Her long leg emerged from the water and let it drip and run. He paused in the doorway, watching her luxuriate in the hot water for a moment before dragging himself away.  
The silk kimono hugged her hourglass figured as she padded from the bathroom, pinning up her wet hair. Jensen groaned as he rose from the deep leather chair and headed toward the bed.  
“You sound like an old man, J.”  
He laughed. “I am. Well, too old to be thrown into trees by pregnant gargoyles.”  
Her glass made a loud sound on the wood table. “Sit on the edge of the bed.” He wasn’t one to argue at the moment. He sat facing the wall of windows the overlooked the valley. The bed dipped where she crawled across it. He looked at her reflection in the dark glass. “Try your best to relax.”  
“Easier said than done, Mae.” He knocked back the rest of the whiskey then set the glass on the nightstand. Her delicate hands held startling strength as she began to massage the tense, knotted muscles of his shoulders and neck. He groaned in pleasure from the firm touch.  
“That a boy.” She looked at his reflection. His eyes were closed but his jaw was tight. The firelight glinted off his bare, golden chest. She worked her hands into his muscles, moving down his back. He rolled forward as she moved lower. Mae sat back on her heels, resting her hands on his shoulders. “Better?”  
Jensen sat upright. “Much. You’ve magic hands, I swear.” He leaned back into her, resting his calloused hands on her knees. Her arms slid down his chest. He looked at her reflection in the glass. She met his gaze as she leaned forward and pressed her lips to the flesh behind his ear. He sucked in a breath through his nose and held it in his chest. Her palms flattened against his chest as she kissed down the muscle in his neck to his shoulder. Her bite was playful, testing. He turned sideways in the circle of her arms.  
His gaze fixed on her lips, but hers moved from his lips to his eyes. “The gargoyles reminded me of us.”  
“How so?” He tore his eyes away from her mouth to meet hers.  
“They nearly bested us, J. They worked together. If the male hadn’t lost his control trying to protect their unborn, they would have escaped. Strong, intelligent beings, alone most of their existence until they find their mate…then they’re mated for life.”  
His strong hand slipped into her hair, pressing fingers to her scalp as he brought her mouth down to his. The press of lips was closed mouthed until Mae opened hers. Jensen’s tongue rushed forward. He moaned, tasting whiskey and strawberries in her mouth. He twisted his body even more as he crawled further onto the bed, leaning her back.  
He stared into her eyes, holding her head in his hand. “Is that what we are?”  
“Is there any doubt, Jensen?”  
He answered her by kissing her, his tongue claiming her as his body pressed to hers. Her limber legs wrapped around his waist. She hooked her toes into the pajama bottoms and pushed them down. His growing cock gave a meaty thump against her mound. She moaned, dragging her nails up his back.  
He pulled back and looked into her eyes again. “This changes everything, Mae.”  
“It changes nothing. I’ve known from the start that I wanted no other man. I was just waiting for you to finally fuck me.”  
He barked out a laugh. “Is that all?”  
She leaned up and caught his bottom lip between her teeth and tugged, lifting her hips off the bed. He pushed the kimono up to her hips as he claimed her mouth again. Reaching between them, he teased the head of his cock along her slit, coating it with her arousal.  
If she was his mate, then he was going to claim her right. His hand closed in her hair as he pushed into her. Her honeyed voice answered him in a deep groan that nearly made him cum right then. He held her hair tightly as he thrust sharp and hard with bruising force, making her moan louder and louder. He growled, breathing hard through his nose.  
Mae’s nails bit into his shoulders, perfuming the air with his blood as they drew down. He hissed at the eight trails of stinging pain. Her leg around his waist helped her roll him over when she pushed off the bed. Jensen opened the kimono, staring up at her bouncing her breasts as she rode him. He wanted to pull her down, grab her hair again and fuck her hard, but she’d taken control.  
His rough hands kneaded her breasts even as his eyes closed and he arched into the bed. She braced her hands on his chest and tucked her feet under his thighs. She let her head drop back, giving herself over to the moment.  
Jensen opened his eyes, watching her body undulate. Why had he waited so long? She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met. She was essentially him as a woman, sometimes even more ruthless. He sat and wrapped his arms under her shoulders, pulling her down as he thrust up. Her eyes flashed open. He kissed her, drinking down her moans. He wanted her on her back again.  
They rolled but the bed wasn’t there anymore. Her back hit the floor and they rolled again. He grabbed her hands and held them above her head, pressing them into the hardwood floor. He stared down at her, panting as he fucked her harder than before. Their bodies made a lewd wet, smacking sound. He wanted, no needed to see her pleasure, her surrender in her eyes before he came.  
He didn’t have to wait long. She cried out, shouting his name. He saw her orgasm in her eyes before they closed. His hips snapped, his growling becoming feral. His back bowed when the pressure became too much and he could not hold out. Their moment of connection was broken by pounding on the door.  
Jensen let her up as he hunted for his bottoms. Mae tied the kimono back into place. She answered the door when he’d covered himself. “Yes?”  
“Your neighbor complained about strange sounds.”  
“Forgive us, master. We were studying gargoyle mating rituals.”  
Their master crossed his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. “I see no books.” He took their disheveled hair and flushed faces. His eyes narrowed. “You two aren’t fraternizing, are you?”  
“No, master. We were merely reenacting what we had found out from the pair tonight. It does involve wrestling around. For dominance, of course.”  
“Of course.” He rested his fingertips on the small of her back.  
“Be that as it may, it’s late. You two need rest before you return to the field. Go to bed.”  
“Yes, master.” They answered in unison. Their master turned and left, his heels clicking down the empty corridor to echo in the silence.  
Mae closed the door. “For dominance, eh?”  
Jensen grinned. “We’ll call it a draw.” She jabbed him in the ribs with her finger. He jerked then wrapped his arms around her. Their grins met in a kiss. The pair fell back into the bed to continue studying mating rituals.


	6. The Alchemist

The floor shook with the muffled explosion from her employer’s laboratory. She sighed and wiped her hands on her apron. A short jog later and she’d thrown open the heavy double doors to his lab and been accosted by a rolling cloud of acrid black smoke.  
“Ivy!”  
She coughed and waved her hand about. “Yes, Lord Hiddleston?”  
“Be a peach and open the windows, would you?”  
“Yes, sir.” She grumbled under her breath. She’d have to air out the entire manor. She held the tail of the apron over her mouth and nose as she began to move through the lower floor of the lab and open the windows. She climbed the stairs to the second floor, avoiding the stacks of books on each one.  
“Would you turn on the fans, darling?”  
“Yes, sir.” She opened the last window and walked around to the other side of the room. With a grunt, she flipped the heavy switch for the pair of fans that hung from the lofty ceiling to begin slowly turning. She trotted back down to the ground floor.  
There he was again, repeating the same experiment. His hair had been blown straight up by the blast. His normal gingery brown locks were soot black. His handsome face was streaked with soot as well. She sighed. “Thomas.”  
“Yes, Ivy?” He looked up. His answering smile to hers clenched her chest. She wouldn’t be the first head of house to fall for her employer. And she would no doubt not be the last. He straightened up as she came around the table.  
“Look at you. Face black as a chimney sweep.” She wiped his face with her apron.  
“Ivy, that’s not necessary.”  
“I don’t rightly care. One day, Lord Hiddleston, you’re going to blow yourself up and take the rest of us with you.”  
Thomas caught her wrist. His smiling eyes became serious. “I would never do anything to endanger you, Ivy.” His thumb caressed her wrist. Ivy swallowed as she drew her hand away.  
“Will you be taking dinner in the dining room tonight? Or the lab?”  
He picked up a discarded rag and wiped his face. “Only if you’ll join me.”  
“Thomas, that’s not appropriate.”  
“Says who?”  
“Says society. I’m your servant. You’re an aristocrat. You don’t dine with the help, sir.” She turned to go. “I’ll bring it to the lab then.”  
He caught her wrist before she was too far away. “Ivy, if you haven’t figured it out, I don’t care what proper society thinks. They all think I’m a touch mad and eccentric. So join me for dinner.”  
“Yes, sir.” Their fingers caressed over one another as she walked away. Thomas watched her go. Ivy had stuck around the longest of his house managers. After his father’s death and he became Lord Hiddleston, most of the servants quit. Only his valet, his butler and the groundskeepers remained. He’d be lying if he said Ivy’s beauty hadn’t played a part in her employment. But that wasn’t the only reason. She was strong, smart, dedicated. She didn’t mind his eccentricities, his experiments, his odd hours or odd company. She accepted him.  
“Ivy?” She paused at the door. “Thank you.”  
“You’re welcome, sir.” Ivy sighed to herself as she shut the double doors. The thin miasma of smoke lingered in the hall. She clicked her tongue and set about opening the windows in the surrounding area. A cool evening breeze blew in, carrying the scent of petrichor and wildflowers.

Lord Thomas Hiddleston stood in front of his floor length mirror. He smoothed his waistcoat against his flat stomach then smoothed a hand over his clean hair. He looked dashing for dinner with Ivy. Would she recognize this as attempt to court her? Or would she think she was underdressed? Oh dear, he was horrible at these things. What he had in abundance in good looks and title, he lacked so very much in social graces and tact with women.  
He trotted down the stairs and into the dining room. Ivy waited for him by his usual seat. She looked positively stunning in the burnt orange satin gown. So much for his worry that she might be underdressed. She would have looked at home on his arm at any social function. It hugged her curves quite nicely and exaggerated them. He stepped up behind her and placed a hand on her hip, leaning in to kiss her cheek.  
“Ivy.”  
“Lord Hiddleston.”  
“Please, for tonight, call me Thomas.”  
“As you wish, Thomas.”  
“Please, sit down.” She sat to his right. “How was your day?”  
She smiled. “Aside from my employer attempting to blow himself up? It was uneventful. I bought some strawberries at the market.”  
“I love strawberries.”  
She looked down at her plate. “That’s why I bought them. They’re dessert.” They made polite conversation through their meal. Thomas’s eyes kept drifting to her mouth and her chest. He cleared his throat and looked pointedly at his meal. “Everything alright, sir?”  
“Everything’s fine. You run this house with amazing ease.”  
“Thank you, sir.” She laid down her fork. “Might I ask you something that’s been troubling me for some time?”  
“Of course, Ivy. You may ask me anything.”  
She wiped her mouth, mulling over her thoughts before she finally spoke. “Why did all the household servants quit?”  
Thomas set his own fork down. “My father indulged my experiments. He thought that if I pursued my passion, I might find happiness. But he gave me limitations. With him gone, as you can see, my laboratory has grown and my experiments have progressed. The servants who are no longer with the house thought I was touched in the head. A bit of madness, you know.”  
Ivy smirked. “Oh yes, Thomas, I know. I’ve heard the whispered rumors. Some of them are absolutely ludicrous.”  
“I’ve heard most of them as well.” He sipped his wine. “Did you know I sacrifice young virgin women like some ghoul after draining their blood for my experiments?”  
“Fancy yourself a Count Batharoy?”  
He laughed, impressed her knowledge. “Aren’t you frightened for your safety?”  
Ivy looked at him over her wine glass. “Why would I be, Thomas? I’m not a virgin.” She pushed her chair back, noticing but not acknowledging his blushing smile. “Are you finished? I’ll go get dessert.”  
“Yes.” He watched her clear their plates and disappear into the kitchen. Draining the wine glass, he refilled it again and hers. The chair scraped loudly on the floor as he stood. Taking both wine glasses, he joined her in the kitchen. “Why don’t we take dessert in the courtyard?”  
“As you wish, Thomas.” She grabbed the stemmed bowls of strawberries and fresh whipped cream, following him out to the courtyard. They sat next to each other, quietly enjoying their dessert.  
Thomas chewed thoughtfully, watching her out of the corner of his eye. When they were done, he slipped his arm around her shoulders. She stiffened at first. But when he went to pull his arm back, she settled into the half circle of his body. “I’ve had an enjoyable evening tonight, Ivy.”  
“I have too, Thomas.” His hand found hers in the darkness, but his eyes were on the stars, wishing on all their twinkling lights that she would stay, that she could be his. Ivy looked at their joined hands, watching his thumb caress back and forth over the back of her hand. He reminded her so much of her late husband, gone these years. She sighed then pulled her hand away and stood. “I should be going, sir.”  
Thomas stood. “Ivy, I-“ He rubbed the back of his neck. “I think it would be convenient and efficient if you were to move into the manor.”  
“Thomas, I…I have a son.” His wide eyes met hers in the dark.  
“I didn’t know.”  
She shrugged. “I know you didn’t.”  
“Then forgive me for keeping you so late.” He grew flustered in the moment.  
“Thomas?” He looked around then back at her. “It’s fine. He’s spending the week with his grandparents.”  
“Oh.” He straightened his waistcoat. “I hope your husband won’t be upset then.”  
“My husband is dead.” This was just becoming more awkward by the moment.  
“I’m sorry.” He bit the inside of his cheek. This was all a great mistake.  
“It’s been several years. Since Samuel was a baby.” She sighed. “A railway accident.” She looked down in the empty bowls. “You remind me of him. Handsome, smart, shy, funny.”  
“You find me handsome.” That was a balm to his outbreak of nerves.  
“I do.” She tilted her head as she looked up at him.  
The butler cleared his throat from feet away. “Forgive the interruption, sir. You’ve a delivery.”  
“I’ll be right back.” Ivy watched him and the butler hurry off. She gathered their glasses and took them inside. Her thoughts ran to her late husband as she washed the crystal with care. She wrapped her scarf over her head as she made her way out. Thomas was barking orders from the open door of the laboratory. “Ivy!”  
She paused at the front door. Thomas ran to catch her. He seized her about the waist and crashed his lips to hers. They tasted of wine and strawberries and his tongue made her want more. His large hand splayed on the small of her back, pressing her body close to his.  
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”  
“Yes, Thomas.” He jogged off back to lab, leaving her flushed and wanting for the night.

Samuel ran down the stairs. “Mother! Mother!”  
Ivy caught him by the shoulders. “Sam, I’ve told you not to run in the house. Lord Hiddleston has very expensive things that we cannot replace should they be damaged in your excitement.”  
“Sorry, Mother. But you must come see!” Samuel grabbed her hand and practically dragged her up the stairs, not to his bedroom but to another door in the hall. “Shh, you must be quiet.” Samuel opened the door and they crept inside.  
Ivy knew immediately where they were at, the second floor of the laboratory. Her son crouched down and watched through the rungs of the banister. She leaned on the top railing. Watching Thomas made her heart swell and her chest tighten. He had several liquids boiling in different small cauldrons. Different colored liquids moved through glass tubing and into beakers and boilers. He stood back from the madness and ran his fingers through his hair.  
Thomas had heard the door open both times the boy had opened it. It gave him some thrill to be spied upon by the curious lad. The second opening of the door brought the object of his affection. She’d never watched him work before. She only ever arrived in the midst or the aftermath. Yet today, she watched him from the railing. He could see her reflection. And quite a tantalizing one it was. With her ample breasts pushed up nearly into her throat by the snug corset.  
He had the desire to show her something beautiful. He began mixing tinctures and liquids from brown bottles together. Then as Ivy watched, the mixture began to change colors, some of which she’d never seen. It gave off a puff of smoke that seemed to glitter in the low light.  
“Mother!” Samuel’s whisper was louder than he’d intended, giving them away. Thomas turned around.  
“So I’ve an audience, eh?”  
Ivy smiled down at him. “Forgive the intrusion, Lord Hiddleston. Samuel is an inquisitive boy.” She tugged her son to his feet and they descended the stairs.  
“I think you can be forgiven. But next time, let me know you are here. Some of these experiments can be extremely dangerous. I wouldn’t want you to be harmed.”  
“Yes, sir.”  
“Run along then. I need to speak to your mother.” Samuel scurried from the lab, letting the door close behind him. Thomas yanked her body to his. “Naughty girl, spying on me.”  
“Oh so the color morphing liquid was not for my benefit?” Ivy smiled.  
“It was…but you’re still a naughty girl. I believe you need to be punished.” Thomas’s hand dropped between them, between her legs, seeking her mound through the skirts.  
“Thomas, we can’t.”  
“Why not?”  
“Sam, for one.”  
He sighed, continuing to rub her through her skirts. Her open mouth pressed to his. “Very well, my darling. After the boy has gone to bed, you will return to receive your punishment.”  
“Yes, Thomas.” Her legs began to shake the more he rubbed her, breathing in her soft whine. Once she had surrendered to him, it was as if a switch was flipped. No longer the stumbling fool, he grew confident in her desire for him and his desire for her. He kissed her as he drew his hand away.  
She looked up at him with hooded eyes. He’d become a completely different person once she agreed to move herself and her son in, once she’d given herself to him and allowed to be taken by him. He’d sparked a desire in her that she thought had died with her husband. But here it was, burning out of control. Were it not for Samuel running around the house, she’d have let him taken her over the table. But for now, the both of them would simmer in their desire until later.

Silver moonlight shone through the high windows of the second floor of the laboratory. Thomas looked up from his notes as the door opened. He licked his lips as Ivy seemed to glide down the center aisle. Her ginger blonde locks cascaded down her back where she’d unpinned her hair for the night. But that wasn’t what had his attention. The dark circles of her areola under the thin white shift and the tuft of fiery hair between her legs had his full attention.  
He set his notes aside as she sat down on his lap, already feeling his arousal pressing against her backside. His fingers slipped into her hair as she leaned down to kiss him. Their tongues tangled. She made quick work of the buttons of his shirt. His hand slipped under her night shift and between her legs. Her right leg fell open to give him room as he plunged two fingers inside her.  
Ivy broke the kiss to suck in a shuddering breath. Their foreheads pressed together. “Sometimes I feel like I’ve conjured you up.” Her hips began to move against his hand. “Like every want, need and desire coalesced into you and strode right into my life.” She didn’t know what to say so she said nothing. “Across my lap, darling.” Thomas removed his fingers, bringing them to his lips to taste her.  
She stood and pushed the shoulders of the night shift off. It fluttered to the floor to pool about her feet. She stepped out then lay across his lap. His large hand cracked against her round backside. She gasped then bit her lip. He spanked her again and again, watching the way her pale flesh grew pink then red and warm. His hard cock pushed against his trousers, begging to be let out.  
Thomas probed her cunt with his fingers, relishing how wet she was. He practically purred. Her soft mewling became a moan as he pumped his fingers in and out and resumed spanking. Ivy arched her back, struggling to keep her hips still even though they wanted to dance. She pressed her hands into the floor, pushing hard on the wood. He twisted his wrist and pressed against her sweet spot. She shuddered and groaned from deep in her chest.  
He knew he could keep her like this for a long time, shaking and moaning and writhing on him, but he wanted her. “Up, my love.” Ivy stood, dazed on shaking legs, panting. Thomas whimpered with how devastating she looked. He claimed her mouth as he shrugged from the shirt and suspenders. They worked at his trousers until they fell to the floor with the rest of their clothing.  
Ivy broke away and pushed him back down into the chair lightly by her fingertips. Thomas held his cock steady as she turned around and lowered herself onto him. His head fell back and his arms clutched those of the chair. The ceiling fans turned lazily above him.  
Ivy’s calves tensed as she pressed her feet into the floor, riding him in a slow, languid motion. She braced her hands on his knees between her wide spread legs. His muscles tensed as he thrust up to meet her. His hands roamed her body, caressing her belly and massaging her breasts. Her fingers dipped between her legs to find her engorged clit.  
Thomas pressed his fingers into her breasts as she picked up speed until she bounced him. He held onto her breasts, his teeth scraping from his open mouth against her spine. He squeezed his eyes shut at the building pressure. Ivy’s mouth dropped open, her moans and cries echoing through the vaulted ceiling of the lab.  
Her cunt clenched around him she swept over the edge, whining and crying out her orgasm. Thomas grunted, pulling her down on to his cock as he emptied himself inside her. They fell back in the chair, breathing heavily.  
Thomas turned her chin so he could kiss her. “I love you, Ivy.”  
She smiled, satiated. “I love you, Thomas.” They watched the fans slowly turning until the warmth of their lovemaking dissipated.

Ivy and Samuel sat in the deep leather chairs before the fireplace. Thomas buzzed around the work tables. The young boy’s pencil scratched over the paper quickly. He slammed the book then jumped up.  
“All done, Mother.”  
She held out her hand for the coursework. “Hand it here. I’ll check it.” She looked over, pleased with his work. “Alright then.”  
“May I join Papa now?”  
“Yes, you may.” Ivy shifted in the chair, her gravid belly making any position uncomfortable. It wouldn’t be long now. She laid a hand over their unborn child as she watched the loves her life tinker with things she didn’t pretend to understand. Their excited murmur and the sound of bubbling liquid carried her off to sleep.


End file.
